


Oranges & Lemons

by QuantumAlice



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chapters might be short, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Character of Color, Friends to Lovers, Headcanon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Original Female Character is a bit strange, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Short Chapters, Slight Alternative Canon, Slow Build, Strong Language, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuantumAlice/pseuds/QuantumAlice
Summary: This is a story about an Outlaw and a strange young woman named Clementine.





	1. Arthur Morgan's Bad Day(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I confess! I have not played RDR2 at all in any way shape or form! HOWEVER I have read the RDR2 wiki's and I watch a Youtuber named Mr.BossFTW. (Please don't judge me... lol) His RDR2 content mostly deals with the lore and mysteries surrounding the RDR2 world. I like that, so while I know some of the main story, I don't know everything which is fine with me. I think I have a good enough idea of Arthur Morgan's character to take a crack at him. So please enjoy and any feedback is always welcomed.
> 
> Sidenote: This is completely un'beta'd so any mistakes are my own.

     Arthur pushed his horse hard in order to reach camp in the middle of the night; it had been a rough two weeks for the outlaw. Nothing went according to his plans; the big game he hunted was nowhere to be seen despite the tracks which clearly said otherwise because, _of course_ _it wasn't_. What he did find was meager at best but, better than nothing. On top of that a few of his bounties (which he only took to supplement for the lack of good game.) nearly got away. They hadn't of course, but it didn't stop the bastards from leading Arthur on a merry long romp across the Grizzlies and the gah damn Bayou... _twice_.

Oh! And how could he forget the ambush from those damned Murfree's? Dealing with the last remnants of those inborn hillbilly horde, cost Arthur more time than he cared to admit, thus adding more fuel to his ire. So by the time he was done recapturing the pair of sorry sons a bitches, Arthur's mood was as black and foul as the weather. (And yes, even mother fucking nature had it out for him because, _of course it did!_ ) So Arthur was all too happy to ride into the nearest town, Rhodes as it were; because he'd be damned if he was going to ride all the way back to Valentine just to turn in his bounties. (And said bounties came back to the sheriff a bit banged up and bruised more so than usual, nobody would blame him. The bastards had it coming; they shouldn't have ran in the first damn place.)When all was said and done, Arthur had left the bayou sheriff nearly 100 dollars richer for all his troubles. It almost made up for all the... undesired side quests Arthur was forced to make.

 _Almost_.           

What he wanted to do and was sorely tempted to do, was to stop in the nearest Saloon, have a few drinks and maybe, if he was lucky, have a good bar brawl to boot. However upon further contemplation, the gunslinger soon changed his mind. For with the kind of "luck" Arthur was having, he'd probably get caught in the middle of the damned Braithwaite’s and Grays feud. This, if he recollected correctly, was some nonsensical dispute spanning several generations, which had the whole town all a buzz. If that were to happen, shootings would surely start and then more likely than not the gunslinger would have to kill somebody (or somebodies), which would lead to Arthur getting a bounty on his head and thus get the local law enforcement involved.  Which would lead to a shoot out with said sheriff and his deputies, forcing Arthur to kill them too, thusly increasing the price on his head ( _yet again_ ), leading to even more shootings, and killings, etcetera, etcetera. All of this culminating into a large and ever increasing vicious cycle and to be honest, Arthur just simply couldn't be bothered. So instead of a stop in the saloon, Arthur took the money, cut his losses and headed back to the gang's hideout.

.

.

.

Only to get ambushed by those damned Night Folk half way through Bayou Nwa. The surprise attack had spooked his horse so bad that she'd actually thrown Arthur from his seat before bolting off into the distance. However, the mare didn't completely abandon her master, but it was clear to the outlaw that his mount wanted nothing to do with the on coming fight that was about to happen. Not that he could blame her, Arthur wanted nothing to do with the on coming fight either. Luckily he was able to recover from the fall pretty quickly, as all it did was leave Arthur bruised, sore and his temper riled. As the gunslinger steadied himself and readied his pistol, a thought flittered through his mind that he'd had for the last two weeks now.

He was getting to old for this shit...


	2. A Certain Kind of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for short chapters, however I have trouble finishing things so I'm trying something different.
> 
> UPDATE: I was tired when I posted this chapter last night, so I went back today to fix a few things to make it sound a bit smoother. I hope it helps!

As it just so happened, Clementine was the one picked for border patrol that night, when Arthur came tearing through the woods like the devil incarnate. Although he had yet to reach the newest Van der Linde member, the scouts’ keen hearing had picked up the sound of familiar hoof beats. He wasn’t too far off. Clementine could also tell, from the way the gunslinger was riding, that he would most likely be in one of his moods that seem to be keeping him company more often than not lately. If that's the case, it would not be a stretch to guess that the last couple of weeks had not been kind to him.  As the hoof beats drew ever closer, the scout worries her thumb nail with her teeth, it's a nervous habit she just couldn't seem to kick, but strange as it were; the quirk helps her think. Clementine wonders if she should make herself known to Arthur or just simply leave the man be.

Part of her wants to know if the outlaw was alright, because although she and Arthur were not close, Clementine did have a healthy dose of respect for the man. He always treated her fair and kindly even if some of her ways were strange to him. Clementine was pretty sure the gunslinger didn’t quite understand her, but to be fair no one in the Van der Linde gang did. Well… maybe Charles might have, but despite both becoming member’s at roughly the same time, the quiet man was a hard read, even for her.

With Arthur fast approaching her position, Clementine had to make a decision quick. So she takes a deep breath, rises carefully up from the thick tree branch she had been sitting on, rifle in tow. Bringing two fingers to her lips, she lets out a series of sharp and short high pitch whistles. It’s one of the signals Charles had taught her while on their hunts; she knows Arthur will recognize it.  Sure enough he does, as the outlaw reigns his horse in not 2 feet from her position in the tree, eyes warily searching his surroundings for the source.

Clementine drops down from her perch, silently landing on the ground in front of the cowboy and his mount. He steadies his mare whispering praises to the startled animal. Once settled, the cowboy tips his hat to the scout.

“Evenin’ Miss Clementine.” He greets politely, not at all surprised by her sudden appearance. Clementine gives a small smile, bringing a russet hand to the neck of Arthur’s mare to gently pet the animal. For all his good manners, Clementine can hear the weariness in his tone, for the drawl of his voice is deep and rough, it makes his accent more pronounced.   She tilts her head skyward, catching a glimpse of the stars in between the darken canopy of tree leaves. It gives her an idea.

“Seems more like mornin’ to me Mr. Morgan,” She paused, fixing her gaze back on the outlaw.“You’re back early.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Am I now?” The outlaw mused with an arch of his brow. He leans forward a bit, hands resting on the horn of his saddle and while the deep darkness of the night makes it hard to see, the scout knows that she has Arthur's undivided attention.

“Yes.” Clementine says with a nod of her head, she tries to keep her face as serious as she can, but the scout can’t help it and a grin slips through so she turns her attention back to the horse. “The trees said you would be back two days from now.”

Arthur dips his head lower, hiding a smirk with the shadows. She still sees it.

“Did they now?”

“Sure did Mr. Morgan.”

“Well then, sorry to disappoint you and yer trees by returnin’ ahead of schedule Miss.” Arthur responds. He sits back up on his mount then, preparing to leave. 

“Oh there’s no disappointment Mr. Morgan." Clementine remarks. She paused, then peeks up at Arthur from the side of his mare's nose. "Even trees get things wrong sometimes.”  His smirk melts into a grin, that seems to Clementine at least, to chase away some of the shadows haunting the gunslinger's comely face. However his only reply was another polite _“Miss Clementine"_ followed by a tip of his hat.  Arthur goes to depart, or would have, had Clementine not tighten her grip on his mare's mane, forcing him to stop.

“Be well Mr. Morgan.” she states, all earlier traces of humor gone. “Be well and know that we all have our bad days from time to time. But you see, in nature it takes a certain kind of darkness for the stars to shine. You be sure to remember that Mr. Morgan okay?” Giving one final pat to the mare, Clementine steps out of the way so that he could pass.

 


	3. Late Night Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur thinks about Clementine.

_“It takes a certain kind of darkness for the stars to shine.”_  Arthur Morgan wrote in his journal. The outlaw figured if he could get the words down, he might be able to make sense of their meaning. But it’s been a couple of hours now and he’s yet to do so. Thus Arthur lies back on his cot, resting his journal on his chest and folds his hands behind his head.

_Clementine…_ he plum just didn’t understand the girl. Half the time she seemed to live in her head. The other half he muses is spent up in trees or as Clementine claims “talking” to nature. A slight grin tugs on his lips at the thought. Maybe it’s why she and Charles got along so well. Despite her strangeness and unusual ways Arthur couldn’t deny the girl was a crack shot with a sharp eye. Such skills make Clementine an excellent scout for Dutch’s gang. For she often sees or picks up signs other members missed. She also had a sense for things too. This tidbit came from Charles himself; the quiet man was not the type to tell tall tales. What he says the outlaw generally tends to believe.  Besides, Arthur could attest to the claims himself, for he’s seen it happen. 

His mind drifts back to just a few hours ago, to the strange not quite conversation he’d had with Clementine. She’d gotten this look upon her face, as if she had known something had been bothering him. Furthermore Arthur had sensed a deeper meaning behind her words. But for whatever reason she’d held her tongue. The outlaw wonders if she had planned on comforting him in some form or fashion, but had hesitated due to the fact the pair didn’t know each other well enough. Perhaps that was the meaning behind her parting words. In her own eccentric way, Clementine was telling Arthur that he would be okay.

The thought brings another soft smile; she really was a sweet girl. Odd for sure, but sweet nonetheless. There was purity to Clementine. It radiates from within by some unknown mystical force. In his travels Arthur’s seen more than his fair share of the supernatural to question its existence. He couldn’t begin to imagine what would drive a force of nature like Clementine _(there is no other way to describe her but as that.)_ to join the Van der Linde gang.

In all honesty it was none of his business. Everyone in the gang had their secrets, every last one. He was no exception. If Clementine wanted to spend her free time talking to trees and speaking in riddles that was her business. As long as she pulled her weight Arthur had no problem with it.

* * *

 

The next day sees him up at an ungodly hour. He managed to get some shut eye but it’s only the bare minimum. Camp was still quiet this early in the morning. Grabbing a set of clean clothes and a scrub cloth Arthur sets out to the river. Pearson is one of the only people up beside himself as far as he could tell.  Dutch had wanted to speak to the outlaw first thing about a potential job for the gang. However after being on the road for the last few weeks he was in no mood to go right back out again. Even so Arthur planned on at least listening to what Dutch had to say, it was only fair. But first thing first, the gunslinger required a bath, black coffee and food. In that order. His skin felt grimy and caked from several weeks’ worth of hard riding. Arthur’s pretty sure he stank of horse, salt and sweat. On top of that he was still nursing some minor injuries from both the Murfree’s and Night folk.

He trudged into the woods taking a small path which lead to the river. There was a sharp crispness in the air, signaling the coming of fall. Scratching at his chin the outlaw figures they will be moving camp within the next several weeks and probably to somewhere south. As Arthur reached the clearing he sees something that stops him in his tracks. Just a little ways down he spots a familiar figure, its Clementine.

And she’s standing in the middle of the river dressed in nothing but a chemise.

Arthur cursed.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! More to come!


End file.
